


Without Firing A Shot

by DemonsDaughter, Kaon_StormDancer



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Bondage, Exhibitionism, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Seeker Tantrums, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sticky Sex, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Timeline inconsistencies, other pairings as story is written
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 15:46:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1516109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonsDaughter/pseuds/DemonsDaughter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaon_StormDancer/pseuds/Kaon_StormDancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to a space bridge anomaly, Megatron from TF:Prime is warped into the G1 Universe. And vice versa. </p>
<p>Ratchet develops a fetish for rotor blades and seduces Vortex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When You're Strange

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaboration between myself and DemonsDaughter. There will be other pairings, threesomes, orgies, and possibly illegal acts with household appliances and barnyard livestock as the story progresses. Please note the following inconsistencies with the G1 and Prime story lines:
> 
> 1\. Optimus was never a dock worker.
> 
> 2\. We wrote Ratchet as he is in Prime, rather than G1, SynthEn included and discovered on his own.
> 
> 3\. Autobots and Decepticons are factions, not races.
> 
> 4\. Unicron is a god, not the bastard love child of Galactus and the Death Star.
> 
> 5.We are using the Aligned Continuum theology for both worlds.
> 
> 6\. As we were uncertain of actual size differences in the two story lines, we decided that Prime Megatron was probably a great deal bigger, as he is referred to as Titan class.
> 
> 7\. There may be some OOC but we have tried to keep it to a minimum.
> 
> 8\. There are more chapters already written but they have to be edited and cobbled together before I can post them.

*******

The noise was deafening, the battlefield a sudden blaze of fiery white light and a thunderous crack that surely damaged audio receptors. Bots threw themselves down beside their enemies in an attempt to avoid the greater evil of...well, whatever was exploding right then.

The noise and light ended as soon as it had come, leaving behind a mech across from Optimus that looked nothing like that Megatron they all knew. 

Optimus slowly rose, frame a little shaky but not damaged. He looked down at an unconscious frame, the mech looking like some warped version of Megatron. Except that he was enormous! His plating was covered in spikes and interlocking panels! His pedes were strange and cloven and there were thick talons at the end of each digit.

"What in the name of Primus..." Optimus whispered, unsure what to do for once. "Jazz, Inferno, get stasis cuffs and get him secured. We're taking him back to the Ark."

The Autobots leapt to it while the Decepticons looked around at each other, wondering to do. Their leader was gone, replaced by some unconscious frame that looked dead to them. Soundwave took control before Starscream and got the Decepticons back to their base, reluctantly leaving their bizarrely changed leader behind.

*******

Inside the Ark, Vortex flattened his rotor blades to his back when he heard the noise, leaping under his brig cell berth as a hideous crack ripped across their world. He hated loud sounds like that, things easily making him jumpy and agitated. 

Fussing, he tried to get out from under the stationary berth and hissed when his rotor blades got yanked on. Swearing and muttering to himself, the gray and blue mech waited until the noise was over to make some sounds of his own, screaming curses that no one could possibly ignore. He wanted someone to come and get him out!

 

*******

Crimson haloed optics lit up the smallish cell as the silver Titan regained consciousness. 

Looking around, yet not moving, Megatron could hear the voices of Prime, Ratchet, and a couple of others he did not recognize. Deciding it would be in his best interests to pretend to still be unconscious until he could gather more information, he shuttered his optics again, listening, while silently taking stock of what weapons were online (his canon was missing, of course...) as well as what was in his subspace. 

It was strangely untouched and packed with dark energon crystals. 

He began powering up parts of the sensitive mining equipment hidden beneath his helm so that he could hear the conversation going on in the hall, thinking to himself that Prime really needed to use colours other than brown and garish orange for the walls in his base... unless it was just in the brig to torture prisoners.


	2. In The Jailhouse Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We told him once or twice to quit stompin' Bots and start playin' nice....

"Is he screamin' again about somethin'?! The little glitch can't shut up!" Ironhide growled as they entered the brig to hear Vortex being as irritating as usual. "No wonder they never bothered ta get him back!"

Vortex whined loudly when he was not given any attention at all, left crammed under a metal slab used for a berth with his rotors aching like crazy. He knew Ironhide and Warpath wouldn't bother to help him or get near his cell at all, so he screamed for a medic. 

"I need a medic! It's an emergency!" he shouted, clawed hands scrabbling at the floor with little scritching sounds.

*******

 

Ratchet strode into the brig, a wrench in one hand and a med kit slung over his arm. "What now, Vortex? I need to make sure your illustrious leader is still functional".

Ironhide peered into the bars that held the demonic behemoth and said, "Oh he ain't bought the crystal farm yet. He may be catchin' up on a few million years of beauty recharge... and he sure is gonna need it! But I can hear him suckin' wind through them big old vents so we're still stuck with him ... ".

Megatron groaned and rubbed his optics with a clawed hand, the only movement he had made to their knowledge.

"Charming... I'm glad to know you're so impressed with my appearance. " he deadpanned, never moving or acknowledging the identity of the speaker, as he had no clue who it was anyway.

Anyone around would certainly recognize the voice as belonging to Megatron but it was much deeper and smoother...and he wasn't yelling or throwing himself at the bars.

Unusual behavior to match an equally unusual appearance.

"Ratchet! Prime! He's awake!" Declared Ironhide.

*******

"I'm stuck! I'm stuck, I'm stuck, I'm stuck! Get me out!" Vortex shouted, starting to thrash around. As much as he pretended to enjoy pain, he didn't really like it that much. And he certainly didn't like being trapped in a tight space.

No aerial did.

He perked up, red visor brightening when he heard Megatron's voice. 

He was here, too?! 

The mech squirmed around some more before calling out to him. 

"Lord Megatron! How did they get you, hmm? Do you want me to take them for a once-in-a-lifetime ride once I get out? I'll drop them from any height you desire!" he yipped, his happy tone followed by a snarl-hiss of fury at being contained and the rattling of rotor blades.

"Megatron," Optimus rumbled, striding into the brig and coming to a halt outside of the warlord's cell. "If you require medical assistance, Ratchet is here. If not, I expect you to sit up and help me understand what has happened. The Decepticons surely caused the explosion and I must know what sort of radiation my team was exposed to."

Megatron tentatively sat up, his processor spinning. Everything looked so... Different. Yet so many things were the same.

"Prime!? What in the name of the Thirteen happened to you? You look different. More like... nevermind. Could someone please extract that mech from whatever he is stuck in?! His yelling is making me edgy. If you can get him to be quiet, I will give you whatever answers I can a provide, Prime. Seriously. My tanks are low and my processor feels like the Nemesis landed on it."


	3. Paranoid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Happiness I cannot feel and love to me is so unreal."  
>  Black Sabbath

Vortex whimpered unhappily to himself.

How could Megatron have forgotten who he was?! 

He hushed because he was slightly hurt by the idea his leader didn't care, still scratching the floor as he tried to get out on his own.

Ironhide appeared before his cell, fed up with the insanity of the Combaticon. Nevertheless, he pulled him none too gently from beneath the bed, uncaring if more damage was visited upon his broken rotors in the process. He was simply tired of listening to his whining, yelling, cursing, and other antics. It never occurred to his captors that Vortex was starved for ANY kind of attention he could get.

At the other end of the brig, Prime was confronting the mech he assumed was the bane of his existence.

"Megatron, I look the same as I always have. You are the one who looks strange and I fear it is some form of radiation from the blast. What diabolical weapon did you create to cause such deformities to your own frame? Why would it affect only you?" Optimus asked, taking out an energon cube from his own stores and pushing it through the bars to the mech. "Here is the energon you require."

Megatron took a long swig of the very bland mid grade and leaned back against the wall, studying Prime with his hellfire optics.

"Hmm.. Perhaps I took a much harder blow to the head than I thought. I am unable to recall the names or faces of most of your team here, aside from yourself and Ratchet. And apparently I do not remember a fellow Decepticon."

He decided to play up the amnesia/damaged angle until he could figure out what was happening.

The huge Kaonite crossed his arms, rubbing his chin absentmindedly, "Everyone seems taken aback by my appearance yet I can remember no other for some reason. Do you have a picture file with my former countenance on it? Perhaps it will help me to remember what happened to cause this confusion."

Optimus bought the amnesia story without a second thought. It made perfect sense to him that the warlord would be heavily damaged from the blast. 

"Here is a picture of what you looked like before the explosion. I am hard pressed to think you did not know what the damage would be, considering that the Decepticons and yourself likely created it," replied the slightly smaller Autobot leader.

His frame and optics reminded Megatron more of Orion than did the Prime he knew. He wondered why he kept his battle mask closed constantly. 

Was he badly scarred, misshapen, was it some odd sense of mistrust?

Optimus handed over a data pad through the buzzing energon bars; the picture displayed on it was of his gun-former self.

Megatron couldn't decide if he liked it or not. That mech had many of his features but he looked less solidly built and while his face was younger and unmarred by battle damage, it seemed less striking and somewhat bland.

"Your...dentas have also changed a great deal." Optimus noticed when he observed the Decepticon speaking.

Megatron finished off the cube and laid the empty container on the floor. "My thanks."

Optimus looked terribly confused when the warlord thanked him of all things, taking the energon and politely drinking it. 

How could this be the same Megatron he had been fighting for so long? 

Either he had seriously honed his acting skills or this was...something else entirely. 

Perhaps the blast had triggered an alternate personality within the mech and made him act so differently.

"Yes, I can see why you mentioned the dentae. The ones I have now seem rather more useful.", mused the warlord.

He handed the photo back to Prime. Remembering the space bridge explosion, he came to the conclusion that maybe Shockwave was correct about alternate universes and the ability to occasionally traverse them. 

Who knows? This could be fun until he figured out how to return to his own point of origin. 

But for now.. He would play his cards close to his chest and pretend to be a moderately good boy and see what information and weapons this world had to offer.

He backed away from the bars, knowing that he could easily walk through them, and leaned against the wall.

"You don't have to stand behind the bars, Prime. I'd be stupid to try an attack with guards around and myself weaponless. I think I may know a little of what caused this but my knowledge is incomplete. Let's sit and discuss it like rational mechs, shall we? You may cuff me if you like but it is disconcerting to try to talk to you through these burning lines...".

While the mech's tone was civil and strangely convincing, Optimus reminded himself that his knowledge was incomplete and that this WAS still Megatron. He could possibly be even more dangerous than before and it would be a bad idea to sit down to petroleum tea with him just yet.

Not to mention that it was mildly disturbing to hear Megatron say the dentas were more useful in their sharpened state.

Primus, he was a very strange and evil looking creature now!

He was reminded of one of Earth's larger oceanic predators. The great white shark, if he recalled correctly. Even the silvery armour added to the impression.

"I will stand here, thank you. I do not trust you and I suspect that this is one of your games, Megatron. We have played this for far too long. You may stay behind the bars and I will return shortly." Optimus said, not wanting to play right then. He needed to brainstorm with his higher ranking bots about what had happened to the warlord and what he was up to. It could all be some twisted plot of his, so they had to be careful.

"If you require anything, let one of the guards know." he said as he turned on his heel and left the brig.

It didn't seem right at all, the way he was acting or the way he looked. It practically seemed like an entirely different mech!

Optimus's processor swirled with all sorts of ideas, but none made sense. Mostly he wanted to know what weapon had caused the initial bang and flash of light. That was obviously the most dangerous part.

If it could change Megatron so drastically, he feared what it could do to his soldiers.


	4. My Friend of Misery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You just stood there screaming, fearing no one would listen to you. They say the empty can rattles the most, the sound of your own voice must soothe you."  
> Metallica

Megatron shrugged, deciding to bide his time.

When his guards resumed their stations, he walked back to the bars, towering over the one called Ironhide and the youthful tank mech he was unfamiliar with. They both turned around to face him, trying to hide the fact that he made them both nervous.

Looking down, keeping his expression carefully neutral, he said, "I am unable to remember your designations but if you could tell me, I'm certain they are more pleasant than whatever nicknames I'll otherwise be forced to create."

"I'm Warpath! Kapow! And this is Ironhide. Can't believe you can't -boom!- remember!" Warpath said, his bad Turret's Syndrome (common among tank and other heavy artillery mecha) flaring up the moment he opened his mouth.

Ironhide smacked his shoulder in annoyance.

"Don't give away our names, ya tin can! Better he not know anythin' like that." Ironhide growled, meeting flaming optics without a flinch. Megatron might look different, but Ironhide was true to his name and wouldn't back down easily, made of some tough stuff. 

Megatron nodded, his row of fangs clenched when the one called Warpath made those odd interjections in his speech. He decided the mech was glitched and knew he'd found a weak link. This mech was almost certainly the object of cruel jokes and would probably respond well to being treated as if he mattered.

"Thank you, Warpath. Do you have anything for entertainment here? Maybe some reading materials? Video files? Something to write with? A scalpel to slit my wrists before I die of boredom?", replied the restless warrior, unable to resist a momentary smirk.

A devilish sneer crossing his own countenance, Ironhide fired back, "Do ya want to play with Vortex? He needs company." 

The red front liner snickered, jabbing a thumb to the far cell. "I don't care if ya strangle him, either. It'd give all of us some peace! But if ya don't want him I'll get ya a data pad, I reckon. So take yer pick, Con."

Even though he was unfamiliar with this Vortex, Megatron decided he might be a good source of information. 

And because Ironhide was so smug in his certainty that even the notorious warlord wouldn't tolerate the Combaticon, he replied, "It might be pleasant to have some company from within my Decepticon ranks. By all means, send him over... Ironhide."

He made certain to accentuate the use of their names. That was always a psychological advantage.

Ironhide snorted and went to the other cell. He grabbed the aerial and yanked him up; the mech letting out a snarl-yelp of pain as he was manhandled into the other cell. 

"Here ya go. Have fun with yer new problem." Ironhide spat, hoping the bot caused Megatron an even more aggressive migraine.

Vortex grunted when he was literally thrown into the cell, his rotor blades bent and aching a great deal. Some energon bled from the area they were attached to his back, the flier shuffling around as he tried to get up.

"New problem, Ironhide? He wears my symbol. He can't possibly be all THAT recent.", the Titan retorted, deriving a strange enjoyment from the taunting game that the big warframe seemed to get off on playing.

Megatron looked down at Vortex, studying him with narrowed optics.

The moment he saw his faction leader, Vortex leapt to his pedes and backed up, helm cocked to the side. Saying nothing, he slowly approached and got a better look, damaged rotors clicking. 

"Lord Megatron? You...look new and improved! So, want me to get us out of here? I can annoy them to death." he cackled, mood going from cautious to excited in a split second. 

The flier came right over and waited for orders, eager to cause destruction.

"I am glad you like what is supposedly my new appearance, Vortex. Apparently the Autobot Fashion Police find me deformed and frightening. Perhaps that in itself is a statement that I'm doing something right."

Emboldened, the aerial sidled up to Megatron's shoulder and stood there waiting, frames nearly touching. It was terribly obvious the mech had been left alone far too long and being a gestalt mech it had made him quite eager for any companionship, overriding even fear and what remained of his common sense.

"Why are you injured and bleeding? Do the Autobots let prisoners who are not high ranking just suffer? That doesn't sound like the Prime or Ratchet I've been at war with...", said Megatron, loud enough for the guard to hear.

Taking the smaller Decepticon's chin into a clawed hand, he studied his features and got a brief taste of his rather desperate, excitable, yet suspicion saturated EM field.

This mech was damaged goods. But many of his Decepticons were...

"You are quite social. A flyer yet not a Seeker. And you have a pleasant face. Do you have a lover amongst my troops who may be looking for you?", Megatron asked, trying to figure out if a jail break might be in the near future. He stepped back and stood against the wall, deciding on a way to get this madmech to talk.

"Tell me about yourself, Vortex. I want to remember. Apparently whatever happened to me has damaged my neural network and is rendering me unable to access a large section of memory files. Tell me what your job is in my army, who your friends are, who you dislike. Maybe it could jump start alternate cognitive pathways."

He flashed a fanged grin at the other Decepticon.

The aerial took the sharp smile offered to him as a threat and curled his lip back once his battle mask was pulled aside, growling softly as he moved away. What had he been thinking to trust anyone?!

"You were cruel to my brothers and I. You forced us into a gestalt combiner team and then you refused to give us the attention we deserved! I dislike everyone besides my four brothers, you included. You left me here...all alone..." 

Now the helicopter mech was starting to pace, muttering as he had a conversation with himself. 

Should he trust Megatron? 

The new Megatron seemed nicer...but no! 

No one loved him! 

He'd said it himself, so why would Megatron now decide he was worthy of attention? He wanted something! Yes that was it!

Vortex curled up on the large berth area and started picking at his damaged rotor blades, looking for something to keep his mind off complicated things. Pain was simple, so he would stick to that.


	5. Sweating Bullets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, me ... It's nice talking to myself  
> A credit to dementia  
> Some day you too will know my pain  
> And smile its blacktooth grin."  
> Megadeth

"No one loves me!" Vortex laughed, sounding unhinged. "They left me here for four months and...you didn't come to get me, either." he realized, backing away once he remembered Megatron was not a friend. He too had left him with the Autobots.

Probably never noticed or just didn't care.

"I bet you hate me as much as the Autobitches and even Onslaught!"

The aerial pouted, crossed his arms and turned away.

'This mech is in his own little reality,' thought Megatron,'Can one really be both bipolar and dissassociative? Most sociopaths aren't quite so moody...if he really is a sociopath. He's already admitted his penchant for violence was learned. Probably the rush keeps him from contemplating his own misery. Hmmm... I'll learn more about this mystery over time.'

He decided to press further but only to skirt the edges of the subject. There might be a way to draw the broken flyer out of his defensive state. Even if only for a few minutes. The mech knew things and he needed some of that information.

"Hmmm... why would I take a personal dislike to you? Did you attempt a mutiny or something?", replied the warlord, certain that his counterpart in this realm was a moron and he hoped that he would not have to meet him. 

Simply because he worried that if he killed his alternate self, he too might cease to exist.

"Left here for four months with no one...that's a long time." Vortex said to himself, claws gouging into the berth as he grit his dentas. "Too long...". He was still stuck in his psychobabble loop, only half aware of Megatron now.

Megatron sighed. This was starting to seem like an exercise in futility.

Perhaps physical contact would get his attention... one way or another.

Megatron drew closer, letting his EM field press down briefly with his heavy, dominating presence then he balanced it with waves of calm and concern for the smaller mech.

He continued in a deep quiet voice that only himself and Vortex could hear. "Well, nevertheless, I may be missing some memories but my thinking and reasoning are perfectly clear. So perhaps we can mend any differences we may have had. Would you like for me to get your wings repaired and promote you to my inner circle as a personal attendant? We could accomplish far more working together for the Decepticon Cause."

Vortex shuffled backwards when he got the touch of the other EM field, unsure he wanted any contact since he was so unused to it. Making a soft whine, he found himself backed up against the wall and the berth, red optical visor staring at the warlord. 

He perked up when Megatron mentioned getting his rotors repaired and made a soft hiss. He didn't like that kind of thing, but he knew he had to be repaired or he was more useless than ever. 

"Are you going to call the medic? I'll try to kill him if you do." Vortex said simply, showing his dentas as he readied himself for a fight. "I was programmed to kill things."

The white rings of his irises disappeared momentarily as Megatron rolled his optics.

"That would be the idea, yes. I am certainly not trained to carry out repairs."

"You can fix it if you can catch me!"

Vortex flicked his rotor blades upwards and made a soft sound that was close to a purr, mood swinging right from untrusting to playful again. 

So far Megatron was being nice...

The Combaticon moved with an aerial quickness and pushed Megatron's arm with his hands before bounding to the other side of the cell. His frame wriggled around in excitement, for a moment the mech seemed much like a canine mechanimal pet.

Deciding that playing his game might get the mercurial helicopter to lose some of his suspicion, Megatron shot across the room with shocking speed in a linebacker rush that he often used as a Gladiator. 

Using his bulk to press Vortex against the wall, he captured both hands in one of his own, circling the other mech's wrists in a hold like a vice. 

Vortex actually squeaked when he was captured, surprised with the speed at which the large mech moved. The old Megatron had never moved like that...

Leaning down, the warlord breathed hot and sultry into his audial, "Repair time, my brave Vortex. And if you're nice to the doctor, I'll be even nicer to you."

He knew that his dangerously sensual side had it's appeal.

The Kaonite teasingly slid his claws down a large, undamaged section of one of the blades as he let his fangs play over the edge of Vortex's jaw.

"I don't do nice..." Vortex fussed, although he stopped any protest when he considered what Megatron-Lord Megatron-was saying to him. He made a sweet, wanton sound when his rotor blade was fondled and his jaw lightly nibbled on. He surprisingly lifted his chin up and exposed more of his neck, offering himself in a show of true loyalty and trust of all things.

"Going to be a model patient for your Lord, my handsome aerial? I don't like being disappointed. I'd have to spend my time alone here if you disobey me. You'd be back in your cell and I'd have to listen to Ironhide and Warpath blather on and on. Neither of us would be happy and I so want to see your blades tall and proud...", he rumbled, voice dripping with innuendo.

"I like the new you better, Lord Megatron. Much better...now you don't yell at me and we can be pals." Vortex purred softly, absolutely melting under gentleness he'd never experienced in his life. 

And that kind of feeling made him hugely interested in pleasing the bot. 

"I'll be anything you want, Lord. Megatron." Vortex continued, his frame beginning to heat up. "I'd like to see some of you stand tall and proud, too...Rawr." 

Vortex flashed a smile, the gesture terribly lopsided but he meant well. The bot had never done such a thing, never felt like someone cared. His gestalt hated him as did everyone else, so this experience was unbelievable and he'd never forget it.

"Okay, I'll get fixed up, Megs. Can I call you that? Can I be your best buddy? I haven't had one of those before." Vortex admitted, sliding out of Megatron's arms and moving to the cell bars. 

"I NEED A MEDIC!" 

"Primus, ya don't have ta yell! We ain't far away!" Ironhide spat, leaving his guard post to collect the aerial. "Come 'ere, ya nasty thing." 

There was a great deal of cursing and a loud snarl from Vortex when he was roughly grabbed by the damaged rotor hub and hauled out of the cell. He'd done damage with his claws, of course, but Ironhide did have tough plating. 

Vortex was dragged all the way to med bay and thrown inside, the mech's transformation sequence disabled as well as his weapons. He was relatively harmless. 

"Have fun and bring it back to the prison when you finish!" Ironhide barked, dumping the helicopter on a medical berth in a heap before he stalked out.


End file.
